“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” he said, “and praying.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Damaris, I—I’d like to marry you—bring you and the kids to the ranch. You are making a—a wonderful mother—but they need a father, too.”
Damaris held her breath. Had she heard him correctly or was she simply hearing the expressions of her own heart?
“I—I know I don’t know much about—being a pa—but I think I can learn. I heard Abbie call you Mama today. It sounded real good. Like—like real family. The little ones need that.”
Suddenly the beautiful spinning world jerked to a stop. She went over the words again in her mind. Was Gil asking her to marry him for the good of the children? He had their welfare in mind—not the promptings of his own heart.
Damaris had to admit that he was right. She did need help with the children. They did need a father. But could she ever, ever, be content to be a wife of “circumstance”? To love him when he didn’t love her?
A sob caught in her throat and her hands went up to cover her face. Gil turned and reached his hand toward her.
“Have I misread things?” he asked, his voice husky with emotion.
Damaris nodded, the tears spilling through her fingers.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought—I mean I dared to think that—that you might feel the way I do.”
Damaris responded with a fresh burst of tears. If only—if only he truly did feel the way she felt. If only he had asked his question because he loved her—not because he felt obligated to help her with the children.
———
The next days were difficult for Damaris. Even the children noticed her preoccupation, her aloofness, her walk with pain.
“Mama, are you sad?” asked Abbie.
Damaris could only nod her head.
Abbie put her small arms around Damaris and whispered gently, “I will hold you,” and Damaris cried again.
It was into the second week when Damaris heard a knock on the door late one evening. The children were in bed and Damaris had been sitting in a chair with a garment held idly on her lap. She had not been sewing, simply looking off into space. But when the knock came, she rose quickly. She was not used to callers—and certainly not at such a late hour.
Dusk was settling, but Damaris could still see plainly as she opened the door a crack. It was Gil who stood there, an apologetic smile on his lips, his worn Stetson in his hands.
Damaris opened the door quickly, her thoughts leaping to Miss Dover.
“There’s nothing wrong, is there?” she asked anxiously.
Without answer Gil brushed past her and into the house. He tossed his hat onto a nearby chair and turned to face her.
“Yes,” he admitted, his head cocked slightly to one side, his eyes burning into hers. “There is! I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t even do my work.”
Damaris felt relief wash over her. It wasn’t Miss Dover. But then a new pain constricted her heart. Gil had not accepted her answer. But he still didn’t understand her feelings for him. She turned to him, searching for the words to explain. Before she could begin, he placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Are you sure we couldn’t make it work?” he pleaded.
She was about to shake her head sadly, when he went on.
“I love you, Damaris. I—I’m asking you again to be my wife. I—I know that I don’t have much to offer you, but I promise—you will have—have everything I do have. My love. My devotion. My respect. I—”
Damaris broke his hold on her shoulders and flung herself into his arms. Her own arms encircled his neck and she leaned against his tall frame and cried against his shoulder. She had heard the words she had longed to hear. He loved her.
He held her closely until her sobs lessened, caressing her shoulder, gently sweeping back the straying wisps of her hair, brushing his lips against the top of her head.
When her tears subsided, he took her shoulders again and eased her back so he could look into her face. “Does this mean yes?” he asked. His teasing made his blue eyes deepen.
Damaris managed a shaky laugh and a nod of her head. “I thought you didn’t love me—that you simply were concerned about—” But his finger on her lips stopped further words as he assured her again of his love.
He held her again, and Damaris had never felt more at home—more secure, in her entire life.
“Soon?” he asked against her hair.
“Soon,” replied Damaris. “Just as soon as we can make the arrangements.”
He kissed the top of her head again. “I’ll get right to work on it,” he said. Then he added with merriment, though his words held seriousness too, “I’ve a mind that Mother is going to like the idea of bein’ a grandma.”
The thought of the three little ones now being a part of a real family gave Damaris great pleasure. She gazed at Gil with glowing dark eyes and nodded her head.
“She’ll make a wonderful grandma,” she said. “And I can’t wait to write my own mama—and Pa—about you—about us.
Our
family. She’ll—they’ll be so happy that—that God has been so good.”
She leaned against his shoulder again, feeling protected, loved, and at peace.